Page 67 of Dark, Forbidden, & Taboo

Seventeen year old female. Tattoos on legs, chest, and arms. Pretty, sassy, willing to train before sale.

“What the fuck? “ I mutter under my breath.

Click.

Creak.

Chuckle.

I bring my legs up and cross them beneath me as I swivel the chair to glance over at the door. Mr. G. is standing there with a smirk on his face, a legion of demons dancing in his eyes, and a leather belt firmly wrapped around a fist.

“Lesson one: don’t poke around in other people’s affairs,” he says softly.

I reach up to smooth my hair back before I swing my legs down and get to my feet. I place my hands on my hips, square my shoulders, and look Mr. G. straight in the eyes.

“Don’t forget the second part of that, Everett. Never try fucking with a bitch that’s already lost everything,” I reply evenly.

“Good,” he remarks with a nod as he begins to walk toward me. “I love it when they put up a fight.”

Chapter

Nine

Mr. G. has a hand wrapped firmly around my throat. Each time he squeezes, I can feel my eyes bulge slightly and my lungs constrict resulting in a burning sensation.

“Lesson two: fuck when you’re told to,” he growls as he parts my legs with his knee and trades the hand around my throat for his belt. He quickly loops it, latching it on the tightest loop he can fit it through, then pulls it—and me—back with full force.

I grunt as my fingers begin to claw at the leather around my neck, trying to gasp for air, but it’s no use. Mr. G. has lost his shit this time and honestly, I think it’s been too long for either of us, anyway.

He opens one of the top drawers as he uses the belt to slide me up the desk, then closes it securely around the buckle.

Once he’s secured me in place, he makes his way around the front of the desk and roughly pulls my shorts off.

I keep trying to find some way to breathe but I can tell he isn’t going to let up any time soon. Especially not when he rips my panties apart, tosses one half aside, and stuffs the other half into my mouth.

“Try not to be too loud,” he instructs with a smirk as he hovers above me for a moment. I’ve seen that look he has in his eyes before; one too many times for my liking, and I only ever stopped seeing it when I moved into the shelter.

I close my eyes tightly and continue to tug at the belt. Granted, this isn’t the ideal position to be in, but having my obituary saydied of asphyxiation due to panties and a belt,isn’t the lasting impression I want to leave behind.

I want to be remembered, but not like this.

As Mr. G. slips a finger into me, I do my best to try and lock my knees together, but he’s much stronger than me.

“Lesson three: if you put up a fight, you should make sure you’re capable of taking down the man that has you in such a compromising position, little girl.”

I use my tongue to push my panties out of my mouth and take in as deep a breath as I can. He’s going to be even more pissed off that I’m not gagged anymore, but I’ll be angrier if I die like this.

Once again, I try to lock my knees together in an attempt to force his finger out of me, but he just laughs and finally relents.

“I guess you want to move on then, Meryska? Is that it?” he asks as I listen to the zipper on his pants being undone, then the dull sound of them hitting the carpet.

Mr. G. steps forward, forcing himself between my legs, parting them with ease, then places the tip of his cock against my pussy.

“When was your last time, little girl?” he asks in a thick tone.

I shake my head because I honestly can’t remember, and I can’t form words since my damn oxygen is still being cut off.

As if he’s read my mind—or decided to finally show some mercy—he presses his body against mine, holding me in place, as he begins to undo the belt loops and releases it from the drawer. I let out my breath in a rush as the leather finally gives way, then grunt, when he jerks me upright.

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